Fillie The Kid
by huggyssupreme
Summary: What would have happened if Fievel never reunited with his friends and family after the defeat of the Mott Street Maulers? Fievel who grew up on his own, is now a teenager, he has a sense of vigilante justice, takes matters into hs own hands. Often find himself into trouble, what more will he find?


1885, Shotska, Russia

_The Mousekewitz's were celebrating the first night of Hanukah. Mama had already cleaned up the table, washed the dishes by hand, and put them away; she was now tending to Yasha who was crying for her bottle. Tanya and Fievel began to swing each other around as Papa played lively music on his violin. The two children began bumping into the counter, the table, knocking things to the ground. This began to upset Mama who cried out, "Tanya, Fievel, will you stop that twirling, twirling!?"_

_Papa laughed at his wife irritability, he tried pleading with his wife, "But Mama, it's Hanukah."_

_Mama raised an eyebrow, and retorted, "For you every night is Hanukah." _

_Papa laughed, "Alright." He stopped playing his violin; he too was beginning to tire from the excitement around him._

_Fievel walked over to his father, his eyes gleaming with innocence, like every Jewish kid, he asked the question that occupied his mind, "Presents, what about presents?"_

_His papa looked at him, and snapped at him, "What presents?" This not only made Fievel sad, but it scared him a little, the thought of no presents did upset him. Tanya too was shocked by this reply as she set her papa's violin in the stand._

"_Fillie…"_

_There was a short silence before Mama called his bluff, "Oh Papa…"_

_Papa laughed, "It's just a joked. For Tanya, a new babushka, happy Hanukah!" Papa handed the red babushka to Tanya; it was a pretty color that Mama picked out._

_Tanya took the babushka and tied it on, "Oh Papa, thank you."_

_Mama was still feeding Yasha, she felt a bit jilted but didn't take it to heart, she reminded Tanya by asking, "You have only one parent?"_

_Tanya turned around; she smiled and laughed knowing that Papa didn't pick it out, "Thank you Mama."_

_Papa turned to his son, "And for you Fievel, a new hat, and not just any hat, a hat that has been in the family for three generations. It belonged to me, my father, and my father's father, and now it belongs to you. Happy Hanukah." Papa dropped the blue hat onto Fievels head._

"_Fillie…"_

_Fievel smiled, he relished the thought of owning the hat his father always wore. He looked up to him, it was only natural that he would want to be like him, he didn't fully grasp the age of the hat, as he could only count to one hundred. The hat slid over his eyes, making it impossible for him to see, he lifted the hat above his eyebrows and whined, "It's too big."_

_Mama was laying Yasha down and responded in a motherly tone, "You'll grow."_

"Fillie, wake up!"

Fillie was now on the floor, he looked around, and for a second he didn't recognize his room. This wasn't Russia, and he wasn't five, and he no longer had his blue hat. Fillie was close to 13, and lived in the walls of a hotel. He reached for his brown hat which had a similar style to the blue one. He put it on, and looked up to the culprit who had rudely kicked him out of bed, "What's going on Stig?"

Stig was a boy with gray fur, who was a year or two younger than him, like Fillie he was also an orphan, though by now Fillie was getting a bit too old to be running around calling himself an orphan. Like many of the young orphans, Stig looked up to Fille, he was his role model. Fillie was probably the only boy his age to have witnessed the Indian Wars first hand. Stig replied, "There's trouble in the market, someone's trying to close all of the shops."

Fillie quickly rose to his feet, he rushed out the door, this wasn't something he could ignore, he had to stop an incident last month between two rival Italian gangs, of course then he had the support of the orphans and the vendors, now it's just him, and an army of orphans. He really didn't want to get them involved unless he had to. Fillie ran down the busy street, he could already see a crowd starting to form around the market, he found himself pushing his way through to get to the center of all the commotion.

Fillie found a merchant trying to sell apple peels pleading with a rat wearing a fancy black suit and red tie, "Please Ragou, if you do this, my produce will go bad, I won't make any money, I need to keep a roof over my family's head."

The sinister rat named Ragou, looked down at the pitiful merchant, his voice was sharp as ice, "That is not my problem. If you want to do business here, you have to pay like everyone else, or leave."

The merchant again pleaded, "P-p-please."

Ragou snapped his fingers, that's when three hulky mice came lurking out of the shadows carrying clubs. The henchmen slowly hit the wooden clubs against their hands, insinuating that they were going to beat this mouse for lack of payment.

There wasn't anything that Fillie could possibly do. These weren't punk kids harassing adults, these were adults harassing adults. However, Fillie couldn't just stand there and do nothing; he couldn't bear to watch the man be beaten before his eyes, or anyone else for that matter. It wasn't right. Before Fillie could realize it, he was standing in front of the merchant, facing the rat called Ragou. He wasn't sure what exactly he was doing but he knew he had to help, "Wait, I'll get the money for you."

Ragou blinked, he was a bit annoyed that someone dared to interfere, "Step aside or you will also get hurt."

Fillie didn't budge; he said in a stern voice, "I'm not playing games. I will get you the money. Tell me how much."

Ragou put his hand up; the henchmen obeyed their leaders' signal, and stopped dead in their tracks. Ragou grinned, he knew he may not get his payment but something in the young mouse's eyes made him want to toy with him, he replied coldly, "I want $300.00 by Friday, which means you have three days to deliver it to me at pier 54, and be sure to come alone."

Fillie stared, he nodded his head and his voice sounded determined, "I'll be there." It was a shame he didn't feel courageous as he sounded, he didn't know what he had just gotten himself into but he was going to figure a way out.

Ragou turned to depart, and said as he was leaving with his henchmen, "You have three days, and make sure you have the money, or else." With that he was gone.

Fillie stood there for a moment, he felt the merchant touch his shoulder, "Fillie, you may have bought me time but you didn't have to do that, now he's going to come after both of us."

Fillie turned to him, "Don't worry, I'll get the money." He turned and left the crowd standing there, watching him, and staring in awe at his actions. He couldn't help but feel like a dead man walking. He jumped onto a trolley that had stopped to let passengers off. He walked to the back, and sat down in exhaustion. He hadn't been up an hour, and he was already in trouble.

Fillie glanced at a family of three in front of him, he watched as the child leaned against his mother's arm, the father smiled warmly at the two and focused his attention ahead of him. Fillie found himself beginning to think of his own family, he started to feel sad, but then anger took over. Thinking of his family made him angry. He was angry because he lost them, angry that he had stopped looking, angry that they never bothered to look, angry that he lost contact with his friends. The last time he saw Tony was when he was supposed to go with him to meet Bridgette…at the pier. He shuddered; thinking of that place still gave him the creeps.

He sighed; he knew he was going to have to get the money somewhere. He watched as the trolley started to slow down, he saw a bank come into view_, "Too bad I can't rob a bank…"_ He hesitated for a moment_, "Who says I can't?"_


End file.
